The morning light streaming through the windows felt like an assault. Soyeon groaned as she buried her face deeper into the impossibly soft pillow, her head pounding in rhythm with last night's bass-heavy playlist still echoing in her skull. The scent of expensive linen mixed with something else - a faint trace of sandalwood and citrus that definitely didn't come from her perfume.
Her eyes flew open.
This wasn't her bedroom.
The panic hit before the memories did. The sleek modern furniture, the panoramic view of Dubai's skyline, the half-empty glass of water on the nightstand with two aspirin placed neatly beside it. And most damning of all - the unmistakable presence of a man's tailored jacket draped over the chair by the door.
Soyeon sat up too quickly, instantly regretting it as the room spun. She clutched her throbbing temples as fragments of the night before came rushing back. The drinking. The dancing. The mortifying moment she'd...
"Oh God." She looked down at herself, still wearing last night's dress though someone had removed her shoes. The expensive fabric was wrinkled beyond salvation, one strap dangling precariously.
Her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Jisu's name flashed across the screen along with seventeen missed calls and what looked like approximately a hundred messages. The most recent one read: "GIRL WHERE ARE YOU??? Taehyun's been telling everyone you left with some mystery guy and your mom is LOSING IT."
Soyeon's stomach twisted. She scrolled up through the messages, each one making her wince harder.
"Okay, okay," she muttered to herself, taking deep breaths. "First, figure out where I am. Second, figure out how to get home without being seen. Third... third I'll deal with later."
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, testing her balance before standing. The plush carpet felt strange beneath her bare feet as she padded toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view confirmed her location - somewhere high up in one of Dubai's luxury towers overlooking the marina.
The bathroom door was slightly ajar. Soyeon pushed it open cautiously, half-expecting to find some stranger there. Instead, she was met with her own reflection in the expansive mirror - mascara smudged, lipstick faded, hair in complete disarray. She looked like she'd been through a war.
A neatly folded towel sat beside the sink along with an unopened toothbrush still in its packaging. The small gesture of consideration threw her. Whoever had brought her here had at least tried to make her comfortable.
The sound of the suite's main door opening sent her heart into her throat. Soyeon froze, listening to the footsteps approaching. Then came the voice - deep, controlled, and unmistakably annoyed.
"I see you're finally awake."
Soyeon turned slowly to face Park Jungwoo standing in the doorway, looking infuriatingly put together in a fresh dress shirt and slacks, a takeout coffee cup in one hand and her dangling high heels in the other.
"You," she breathed, equal parts relieved and horrified.
"Me," he confirmed dryly, setting the shoes down with deliberate care. "Though I'm sure you were hoping for someone more... exciting."
Soyeon's cheeks burned. "What am I doing here? In your...?" She gestured vaguely at the bedroom.
"Suite," Jungwoo supplied. "You're in my private suite at the Eclipse Residences because you were in no condition to go home last night." He held out the coffee. "Drink this. You'll need it."
She took the cup warily, the rich aroma making her stomach growl despite itself. "How did I even...?"
"Get this drunk?" Jungwoo raised an eyebrow. "By doing shots like they were going out of style, from what I saw."
"No, I mean how did I end up with you?"
The question hung between them, heavy with implications. Jungwoo's expression remained impassive, but she caught the slight tightening around his eyes.
"I found you stumbling toward what you thought was the restroom but was actually my private lounge," he said evenly. "You then proceeded to insult my life choices, attempt to teach me how to 'have fun,' and ultimately..." He paused meaningfully.
Soyeon closed her eyes, the memory hitting her with horrifying clarity. "I threw up on you."
"On my favorite Tom Ford blazer, yes."
She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I'll buy you a new one. Ten new ones."
"Not necessary." Jungwoo moved past her to open the curtains wider, flooding the room with sunlight that made her wince. "Though I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this."
Soyeon peeked through her fingers. "Why? Ashamed to be seen with me?"
"Concerned for your reputation," he corrected. "Your mother already thinks poorly enough of me."
That stopped her. "You know my mother?"
Jungwoo gave her a look that suggested she was being deliberately obtuse. "Everyone in our circles knows Yoonmi Kim. She's been trying to set us up for months."
The revelation hit like a bucket of ice water. "Wait. You're that Park Jungwoo?The tech guy she won't stop raving about?"
"The very one." His mouth quirked in what might have been amusement. "Though I suspect her enthusiasm has waned after you stood us up for dinner last night."
Soyeon's stomach dropped. "Oh no. She's going to kill me."
"She might," Jungwoo agreed mildly. "But not today. I had my driver bring some clothes for you." He nodded toward a discreet shopping bag on the dresser. "They should be approximately your size."
Soyeon stared at him, this enigmatic man who had somehow seen her at her absolute worst and was now... helping her? Why? What did he get out of this?
As if reading her thoughts, Jungwoo added, "Consider it a professional courtesy. I'd hate to see Dubai lose one of its most... colorful socialites to alcohol poisoning or maternal wrath."
The backhanded compliment should have stung, but there was something in his tone - something almost teasing - that took the bite out of it. Soyeon found herself smiling despite herself.
"You're not what I expected, Park Jungwoo."
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "And you're exactly what I expected, Kim Soyeon. Just... more."
With that cryptic remark, he was gone, leaving her alone with her pounding headache, a million questions, and the unsettling realization that for the first time in years, someone had seen past the glittering facade she showed the world.
And that thought was far more terrifying than any hangover.
To be continued…